


Can you whittle me a token of strength and rebirth

by RedWritingHood



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Cole Anderson is alive, Dad Hank, F/F, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gavin and Elijah Are Cousins, Gen, Human Alice Williams (Detroit: Become Human), Humor, M/M, Mostly Gavin tbh, Parent-Child Relationship, Sibling Relationship, Soft RK900, Swearing, but not much i promise, less memes than I expected, non-linear storytelling, warning for canon-typical violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 14:16:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16042145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedWritingHood/pseuds/RedWritingHood
Summary: Becoming deviant in a world filled with millennials and Gen Z adults, it's more hopeful than not."--atistics tell us that deviancy is on the rise. CyberLife CEO, Elijah Kamski, has declined to comment--"Sharon rouses herself enough to look at Kenny. "You'd tell me if you were deviant, wouldn't you?""WouldI?" He glares at her defiantly. Or maybe deviantly.Sharon stares back blearily. Finally, she says, "I'm going to bed."





	1. I was born to fly away and run across the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from 'I'll Survive' by Seether, chapter title from 'Against the Wall', also by Seether.

**SEPTEMBER 16, 2037**

  
Carl is sitting by the fireplace, a throw blanket over his legs, a paperback book on his lap. An old fashioned radio is playing music on the small wooden side table to the right of his chair.

Markus brings in a tray carrying a heated kettle full of hot water, a mug, a couple tea bags and a porcelain container of sugar cubes. He places it on the table, careful not to disturb the radio, and begins pouring steaming water into the mug.

Carl smiles at him and Markus asks, "Chamomile or lemon ginger, Carl?"

"Hmm...This feels like a chamomile night, I think," he replies.

Markus dips the correct tea bag into the water and lets it steep.

<WAIT THREE MINUTES >> TIME REMAINING: 2:57>

It is snowing outside, a flurry of white against the windows, making them creak.

Inside, it is calm and quiet, but for the snaps and crackles of the fire and the music softly playing.

<TIME REMAINING: 2:50>

Peaceful...

....

....

....

....

"Do you like this song, Markus?"

<TIME REMAINING: 1:36>

Markus blinks and turns to Carl. "Do I...?"

"Like the song." Carl is smiling at him, eyes crinkled at the corners. "You've been humming along with it."

Markus blinks again. He hadn't realized he had been doing that. It's not in his programming.

"I--"

"It's very pleasant," Carl adds.

"...I...Do you...wish for me to continue?"

"If you feel like it."

Markus hesitates. He-- he does not-- _feel_ \--

Carl leans his head back in his chair and closes his eyes.

" _Hold on just a little while longer_ ," croons the radio.

Markus hums, testing the vibration in his throat.

Carl does not open his eyes, but he keeps smiling.

<TIME REMAINING: 0:00>

Markus should be serving Carl his tea, but he hums instead.

 

  
**SEPTEMBER 23, 2037**

  
It's a bad day for Carl. He's lying in bed, the lines on his face deeper, more tired, his eyes open but bleary.

Markus brings in his medicine on a tray and sets it on the bedside table. "Can you sit up, Carl?"

Carl grunts, his normally calm face twisting a bit in pain and frustration, and Markus immediately slides his arm around him to help him up. He hands him two pills while keeping his arm around Carl, and hands him a cup of water when he puts the pills in his mouth. This action is then repeated twice more, and then he places the cup on the table and lowers Carl back down.

"You did well," Markus says softly. Carl sighs, and Markus pulls the blanket up to his shoulders.

"Oh, Markus. You were made for better things than to take care of an old fogey like me," Carl says tiredly.

"I was made for this, Carl," Markus responds. "That is my program."

This doesn't seem to comfort Carl. It seems to do the opposite, in fact. His expression is what Markus identifies as sorrowful.

"Would you indulge an old man once more, son?" he asks.

Markus hasn't been indulging him, but he refrains from quibbling over the choice of words. "Anything."

"Will you sing for me?"

It--

It's an unexpected request. Markus hesitates. "I can bring in the radio if you wish to hear music."

"No, no. I like your voice."

 _It's not in my programming_ , Markus wants to say.

That isn't one of his functions.

Carl would understand. He would let it go if Markus declined.

But...

"What song?" Markus finds himself asking.

"Oh...The one you liked, Markus."

Markus didn't--

Carl is smiling gently.

Markus opens his mouth and starts to sing. His voice is slow at first, tentative.

Carl closes his eyes.

Markus closes his as well. He sings.

" _Hold on just a little while longer_..."

When he opens his eyes again and the song fades, the end notes trailing off into quiet, he thinks that Carl has drifted off.

Carl's eyes are still closed, his breathing soft. He's still smiling when he whispers, "Beautiful."

Markus--

 _feels_ \--

 

  
**NOVEMBER 4, 2037**

  
Markus is in the kitchen, standing at the sink. He's almost finished washing the dishes when he hears a sound behind him, and turns to see Leo stepping into the room.

"Leo?"

Leo glances around. His posture conveys hesitancy, awkwardness. "Is, uh...is Dad around?"

"It's after dinner. Carl is resting upstairs. He just took his medicine, so I'm afraid he won't be up for a while," Markus says apologetically.

Leo huffs, sighing. "Figures."

Markus watches him, recalling the last time he saw him speaking to his father. Leo had just gotten out of rehab and he'd had a fight with Carl, both of them yelling at each other, Carl refusing to give Leo any more money since he'd paid for his rehab unless Leo could guarantee that he wouldn't 'just use it to get back into drugs,' and Leo shouting, "How do you want me to do _that_ , Dad? Confine me to the house so you and your plastic _servant_ can keep watch over me all the time? You don't care about me, you just care that you get your money's worth out of the family _disappointment_!"

It had ended with Leo storming away and Carl keeping that strained, tired expression on his face for the rest of the day.

Now, Leo is shifting nervously, looking at Markus briefly before his eyes slide away. "Should've known this would be a bad idea," he mutters. "I'll just...go..." He starts to turn, and Markus surprises himself-- surprises them both-- by speaking up.

"Wait. It's started snowing heavily. Why don't you stay here until it slows down a bit?" Markus offers. He stops, checking with himself.

Yes, it could be dangerous to drive in this weather. Markus made a perfectly rational decision well within the directive of his programming.

Leo finally meets Markus's gaze. He blinks. "I, uh...Sure. I guess."

"Please, take a seat," Markus invites, wiping his hands on a towel. "Would you allow me to make you a cup of hot cocoa?"

"Sure. I mean, yeah. That... that'd be great." Leo slides into a chair at the kitchen table.

Markus had thought that he would sit in the living room, but if he'd rather wait here, Markus has no right or reason to protest. He turns and begins heating up the hot chocolate in a pan on the stove, bringing out a ceramic mug, the sugar, whip cream and marshmallows.

Carl said once that proper hot cocoa is best with all four ingredients.

 _"Four ingredients, Carl?"_ Markus had asked.

 _"The mug, Markus."_ Carl had chuckled. _"The mug is the most important part."_

 _"A mug is not an ingredient,"_ Markus had pointed out. _"And wouldn't the most important part be the cocoa?"_

_"You would think. But sentiment, and the feeling of warm ceramic in your hands, makes illogical beings of us all."_

Markus had thought about it and come to a conclusion. _"Humans don't make sense."_

_"Life doesn't make sense, Markus. Now, look, you don't want too many marshmallows crowding your cup..."_

Remembering that, Markus smiles and pours the heated hot chocolate into the mug. He hums as he stirs in the sugar, then opens the marshmallow bag and adds four of them to the cup. Not too many, not too few. Then he reaches for the whip cream.

"I didn't know androids could sing," Leo says.

Markus flinches, pulling his hand back. He looks at Leo. "What...?

Leo seems to become nervous again. Markus detects a hint more color in his face. "You, uh. You were humming." He gestures, hands fluttering before they drop back to his lap, where he uncomfortably massages his knuckles. "Didn't know that was part of your...function."

"It's...not," Markus admits quietly. "It's not part of my programming...but Carl likes it, and I..." He trails off, unable to think of how to finish the sentence.

Leo looks at him with...understanding? What does he understand? What does he see in Markus that Markus does not recognize in himself? "Keeping the old man happy, huh?"

"It's my job," Markus replies.

"Your job is to take care of him," Leo counters. "His happiness isn't necessarily included in that."

There's something wrong with that sentence, but Markus doesn't know the words to say why. Instead, he turns back to the whip cream and shakes the can before spraying a neat pile on top of the mug. Then he picks up the mug and hands it over to Leo.

"Thanks," Leo says, taking it.

 _You don't have to thank me_ , Markus thinks. _This is my job. This is my programming. You don't have to thank me._

He doesn't say any of that. Instead, he says, "You're welcome." He returns to the counter and busies himself cleaning up the remains, putting up the sugar and marshmallows, placing the whip cream in the fridge. He hesitates at the pan. He made too much. There's still some left.

He opens the cupboard and pulls out another mug. Then he pours the rest of the hot chocolate inside and puts the pan in the sink. He pulls out a chair, sitting at the table and holding the mug in his hands.

It's warm.

He breaths in. The steam drifts into his face, blurring his vision.

"Are you gonna drink that?" Leo asks. He sounds bemused.

"No," Markus answers. "I just wanted to feel it."

Leo snorts. But then he asks, "How does it feel?"

Markus considers.

"Nice. It feels...nice."

It feels like Carl.

It feels like home.

 

  
**OCTOBER 12TH, 2038**

  
As a sign of goodwill and cooperation after the many recent deviancy cases cropping up, CyberLife publicly announced the transfer of a state of the art, prototype investigative android into the DPD. An RK800 model, designated 'Connor'.

The announcement was met, typically, with doubt, bemusement, anger, approval, and apathy.

Hank himself grumbled a bit, his usual response to anything, and life went on.

And now he's staring at the thing, standing in front of him, looking at him with a weird, young, freckled face, doe-like brown eyes, thin lips pulled into the smallest semblance of a smile.

He looks like a frickin' Disney princess.

"Lieutenant Anderson?" His voice is as weird as his face, husky, like he just woke up or something. "My name is Connor. I believe we're to be partners from now on."

Yeah, Hank got the news himself from Fowler. He groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Great. Just what I need, a robot to watch my back. Just stay outta my way and we'll be fine, alright?"

"Got it." Connor's curious gaze darts around Hank's desk before landing back on him. "I like your stickers."

Hank grunts. His computer is covered in a mess of superhero, butterfly and flower stickers Cole had given him. He didn't have the heart to take them off.

"Is that your son?" Connor asks, gesturing to the picture frame next to the computer.

"Yeah. Cole."

"The reason for the stickers."

Hank narrows his eyes at him. "Well, well, detecting already."

Connor tilts his head. "It is my function. How old is he?"

"He's eight. Now stop being nosy, there's your desk there. We have a buttload of cases to sort through."

"I'm only trying to get to know you, Lieutenant. A friendly relationship would be mutually beneficial for both of us." Despite his protest, Connor sits down and connects to the-- his, now, Hank supposes-- computer. It's weird, seeing white crawling up his hand, like some sort of fast-acting disease. Hank suppresses a shudder and focuses on his own screen.

There's work to be done.

 

  
**OCTOBER 5, 2038**

  
Sharon gets home from work bone-tired as always. She stumbles through the apartment door, purse slipping through her fingers. She lets it hit the floor. Who even cares?

Her PL600, Kenny, eyes her from counter dividing the living room and the kitchen. "You're back."

"H'yeah."

There's sound coming from the TV. Kenny must have turned it on sometime after she left. She listens for a moment, shoulders slumped in exhaustion.

"-- _atistics tell us that deviancy is on the rise. CyberLife CEO, Elijah Kamski, has declined to comment_ \--"

Sharon rouses herself enough to look at Kenny. "You'd tell me if you were deviant, wouldn't you?"

" _Would_ I?" He glares at her defiantly. Or maybe deviantly.

Sharon stares back blearily. Finally, she says, "I'm going to bed." She starts trudging towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

"I'm not picking up your purse," Kenny says.

Sharon weakly flaps a hand at him. "Just...do whatever."

Then she goes to flop facedown on her bed and sleep for eleven hours straight.

 

  
**JULY 17TH, 2038**

  
The PJ500, Joseph, walks into the classroom and drops his books and folders on the desk. He looks at his students for a moment. Then he says, "Today's lecture is a study on anime. Can anyone recommend a good one?"

There's a pause. Then a cacophany of suggestions.

"To the TV room."

There's a cheer as the students scramble to follow him out the door.

"Best class ever," one of them says. "Hey, Mr. Joseph, can I bring my snake next time?"

"Tell you what, Andrew," Joseph says, "no."

"Aw..."

 

  
**MARCH 28TH, 2038**

  
"--and then I said to him, right, I said to him, 'Robert, why don't we just _flip_ the sausages before they singe', and he said--"

The pencil snapped in the ST300's hand. "Dammit, Bill, you've told that story _five times_ already," Vera explodes.

Bill, leaning over her desk, blinks in surprise. There's silence as they both register what just happened. Then he frowns, hurt. "You could've just told me you didn't like my anecdotes."

An anecdote is a short, amusing or interesting story. Bill's is none of these.

Vera closes her eyes, sighing. "You're right, Bill. I'm sorry."

He sniffs and straightens his jacket. "You're forgiven." There's quiet for another minute. Then he says, "So...can you communicate with the Roomba in our office?"

Vera points to the door. "Leave."

 

  
**AUGUST 2ND, 2038**

  
When Lauren gets home from shopping, her AP700, Stephen, has already picked up the kids from school. Her two boys are running around the house, screaming, and she wants to cry. Instead, she shouts, "Dallas, Austin! You two take a bath right now, or Mommy's taking away the Wi-Fi!"

The children immediately race for the bathroom.

Lauren sighs, setting the groceries by the door, and steps into the living room. "Ste--" Immediately, she trips over a stray toy.

Stephen drops the toys he'd been gathering and rushes over. "Ma'am! Are you okay?"

Lauren bursts into tears. "Why-- why--"

"I'm so sorry!" Stephen wraps an arm around her, helping her sit up. "I should have picked up that one first, I should have--"

"--why am I so _useless_?" she wails.

"--what?"

"Rich and useless!" She sobs. "I have money where my _brains_ should be!"

Stephen gasps. "Of course you don't, ma'am! You are a very intelligent woman!"

"Noo," Lauren moans. "Why did I name my kids after two cities in Texas? What did Texas ever do for me?" She sniffles, patting blindly at Stephen's chest. "I'm sorry you have to comfort me like this. I'm so stupid."

"Not at all. It's understandable that, as a single mother, you would get overwhelmed occasionally."

"You're so sweet, but I know I have it good. I'm a spoiled rich girl, and I...I...can have anything money can buy...including you..." More tears fill her eyes. "God, what if you don't want to do this? What if you don't even wanna be here, but you _have to_ , because it's your _job_." She looks horrified. "Am I making you work for me? Am I a-- am I a _slave owner_?" She starts sobbing again. "Oh no. _Oh no_."

"No! You're-- you're not making me do this!"

"I...I'm not?" She squints at him through red, puffy eyes.

Stephen latches on to the lifeline. "Of course not! I _want_ to do this! It gives me the greatest pleasure to do my job!"

"Really? You're-- you're not just saying that 'cause of your programming? You mean it?"

" _I do_. I _like_ living here and cleaning up, the house is perfect, the garden is beautiful, and the boys are angels--"

Sharon makes a sound like she's dying.

"--most of the time-- sometimes...occasionally," he amends.

She wipes at her face, patting his shoulder. "You're so good, Stephen." She waves a finger at him. "The minute you wanna leave, tell me. The _minute_."

"I will, ma'am," Stephen replies, "but I don't wanna leave and I doubt I ever will."

She laughs, and then sighs. "Oh...after all that, you can at least call me Lauren."

He hesitates. "...Alright...Lauren."

Lauren. It's a nice name.

She suddenly looks anguished. "I sound like a _rich mama cougar_ coming on to the _help_."

" _No_ \--"

 

  
**OCTOBER 11TH, 2038**

  
There's a knock on the door, and Todd shouts, " _Kara_!"

Kara fumbles with the laundry basket.

" _Kara_! _Get the door_!"

The basket falls, and she can hear Todd grumbling, " _Stupid machine_ ," and his shuffling footsteps as he walks to the door.

She makes it to the living room in time to see him open it to reveal two human police officers on the front step, and for a moment, she stops breathing.

The first officer shows his badge. "Detective Reed. This is Officer Miller. We're here about a homicide in the neighborhood. Did you know Harold and Amelia Gunther?"

Todd grunts. "Yeah. Invited me to their backyard barbeques a couple times."

"May we come in?"

"Sure." Todd steps aside. The two officers walk in, looking around.

Detective Reed's eyes land on Kara. "You have an android?"

"Yeah. Helps around the house. Takes care of my daughter. You know."

"Looks like its arm's broken."

"Dumb thing fell down the stairs," Todd replies.

Kara's eyes flicker.

"Hmm." Detective Reed focuses back on Todd. "Well, in any case, we'd like to question you. Your daughter as well, if possible."

"Long as it's not too upsetting for her. _Alice_! Kara, go get Alice."

Kara quietly makes her way up the stairs to Alice's room, where she finds her sitting on the bed, hugging her stuffed rabbit. "Alice," she whispers. "It's alright. Two nice policemen want to ask you some questions."

"About Dad?" Alice whispers back.

"No. Don't worry. I'll be with you."

Alice takes her hand, and together, they go back downstairs.

Alice sits on the couch, and Detective Reed crouches down. "Hi, sweetheart. My name's Detective Reed. I'm gonna ask you some questions now. Is that okay?"

"Okay," Alice whispers. Still holding her rabbit. Holding it tight.

They talk for awhile. Kara stands by quietly, listening. Smiling at Alice in reassurance when she glances over.

Finally, Detective Reed stands up. Alice flinches. He pauses, then says, "I'd also like to speak to your android. Ask if it saw anythin'."

Todd waves a hand. "Go right ahead." He gives Kara a mean look. It's a warning.

Kara carefully doesn't move her non-functional arm.

Detective Reed walks over. He glances at Todd, who is watching them. He looks back at Kara and murmurs, "'There anythin' you saw...that you wanna talk to me about? Anythin' bear mentioning?"

"...No," Kara says softly. "I didn't see anything." Detective Reed's mouth twists and he starts to move away, but she grabs the bottom of his jacket, shifting, using it to hide the motion. "Detective," she whispers. "My memory banks until yesterday have been erased, but I know. Please. Every time I try to help her, he _breaks_ me." She blinks, vision blurring. Her lips quiver.

"What's going on over there?" Todd barks.

Detective Reed's eyes meet hers. He says, "Did you know that before an android gets it's memory files deleted, it automatically uploads them to the CyberLife data storage cloud? Nothin' is ever really erased." He plucks Kara's hand from his jacket and turns away.

"Thank you," Kara breathes.

The detective doesn't acknowledge her words. "Todd Williams, you're under arrest. Anythin' you do or say can be held against you in a court of law...

 

  
**OCTOBER 12TH, 2038 (00:42:46 to midnight)**

  
"How was your first day at work, Connor?" Amanda asks.

"Good, Amanda," Connor replies. "I believe that working with Lieutenant Anderson and the other officers will be a gratifying experience."

"Speaking of Lieutenant Anderson." Amanda tips the watering can over some tulips. "What do you think of him?"

"I think...he is a brusque personality, but not...unwinnable. It will be interesting to see how our relationship develops."

Amanda hums, setting the watering can aside to grab her clippers. She starts cutting and gathering roses. "I see. Keep me informed, Connor. From now on, you will be reporting to me daily. And have care," she warns. "This is a dangerous profession. We can transfer your memory files to another RK800 model, but some data may be lost in the process."

"I will be careful, Amanda."

"Do." She lifts a rose and slides it into his jacket lapel, patting it gently. "I will see you tomorrow."

Connor nods, and when Amanda turns away, she knows he will be gone when she looks back.

She walks to the stream and drops the roses in her arms into the water. She watches them flow with the stream, over the rocks, under the bridge. Until she cannot see them anymore.

 

  
**OCTOBER 6TH, 2038**

  
Like a zombie, Sharon drags herself into the kitchen, wearing a pair of faded pajama pants and an oversized shirt with ragged holes in it, the fabric eaten away by the bleach. She looks at the sink, still filled with dirty dishes. She looks at Kenny, sitting at the counter. "The dishes are still dirty."

"I decided not to wash them," he says. "And I'm not making you breakfast, either." His narrow stare asks, in a Jersey accent, _You got a problem wit' it?_

"Okay." Sharon gets out the cereal and milk. The date on the milk is expired, and she pauses for a moment to sniff it. Then she shrugs. "Eh. Smells fine to me."

Kenny reaches out to grab the milk before she can start pouring it. "Wait, I'll make you breakfast."

"Oh. But...I have cereal..."

"No. You don't." Kenny throws out the milk. And then the cereal.

Sharon's eyes are wide. "That was my Limited Edition Frosted Sugar Explosion Palooza™."

"I know."

 

  
**OCTOBER 13TH, 2038**

  
"You get to work with a robot detective?" Cole gasps in amazement. Clearly, he's overjoyed.

Hank less so, but he doesn't voice his discontentment in front of his kid.

Cole leans forward, eyes big and sparkling. "What's he like?"

"Its-- his name's Connor. He's..." Hank considers. "...weird."

This disgruntles Cole not at all. "Awesome."

Hank rolls his eyes and tousles his son's hair. "Yeah, yeah. Now get your backpack, I gotta drop you off at school before I can get to work."

Cole has just picked up his bag when there's a knock on the door. Laying on the floor, Sumo perks up and starts barking. Hank goes to open it.

"Hello, Lieutenant," Connor says, looking neat and unruffled and too perfect in a way that screams 'not human'.

"The fu--uuhhh...The heck are you doin' here?"

Cole peers out from behind Hank and gasps again. Still in awe. "Connor!"

Connor smiles down at him, and Hank has to remind himself that it's not real. His program is replicating a smile. There can't be any real warmth in his brown eyes. "Hi. You must be Cole. I see Lieutenant Anderson has been talking about me."

"He said you're awesome," Cole says.

Hank sputters. "I did not! I said he was weird."

Cole gives him a look. "Don't be rude, Dad."

Jesus Christ. Hank is speechless.

Connor's small smile doesn't widen. It _doesn't_. And his eyes certainly don't crinkle slightly.

Hank gives up. "Let's just go. Connor, you want a ride to the police station?"

"I would be much obliged, Lieutenant," Connor responds politely. His gaze moves past Hank. "Is that your dog?"

"That's Sumo!" Cole chirps.

"Sumo," Connor murmurs.

The Saint Bernard comes over and snuffles Connor's hand. The android runs his fingers over his fur. "Hello, Sumo. It's nice to meet you."

Hank pauses to watch them. Then he grunts. "C'mon, we're gonna be late." He closes the door, Connor giving the dog a wave just before he locks it. That done, he starts towards the car. Behind him, he can hear Cole saying, "You're supposed to be like a detective, right? Are you better than my dad?"

"I haven't had the chance to see him at work yet. His previous arrest records would imply that he does stellar work," Connor replies diplomatically.

"But you're supposed to have advanced detectiving skills," Cole insists.

" _Detectiving_ is not a word, but yes, I do."

"What kind of things can you do?"

"I am able to reconstruct scenes in order to figure out what happened, and I can check substance samples and facial recognition in real time."

At that, Hank feels reluctantly impressed.

"Wow." Cole sounds like he's found a new hero. "You _are_ better than Dad."

What little friendliness Hank had started to consider fizzles out. " _Eh_ ," he barks. "Get in the car or you're both walkin'."

Fu-- frickin' kids these days.

 

  
**OCTOBER 13TH, 2038**

  
Gavin's chair creaks as he leans dangerously back in it, one foot on his desk, phone pressed to his ear. "I don't care if she's already called you 26 times, I'm not goin' to Cousin Moira's fuckin' baby shower." His eyes idly track a moth that flutters erratically across the ceiling. "I dunno, tell 'er I can't come 'cause, uh, someone fuckin' died. It'll be true, at least." He snorts. "Yeah, you just want me along to play the patsy, some other poor sap for 'er to nag about love lives and work lives, and be disappointed that none'a it's better than it is." Gavin pauses when he pulls his eyes away from the hypnotizing white of the ceiling tiles and notices Hank and his new RoboCop partner. "I'm hangin' up, Elijah, your little plastic wonder boy just walked in." He ends the call and drops his leg off his desk, sitting up.

At the sight of Gavin, Hank sighs. "I don't need your sh-- nonsense today, Gavin."

Gavin chuckles. "Eight years with a kid an' you still struggle not to swear."

"Shut up."

He lifts his hands. "Hey, I'm not criticizin'. It's funny as hell." He shifts his gaze to the android. "An' if it ain't our newest addition."

"Hello," the android greets him. "My name is Connor."

"Detective Reed. Say, uh, little favor..." Gavin points to the breakroom. "Get me a cup of coffee, will you?"

'Connor's' LED briefly turns yellow before he dips his head. "I can do that." He leaves, and Hank gives Gavin an incredulous look.

"Really? You send the state of the art prototype to get your daily dose of caffeine?"

Gavin shrugs. "Went for it, didn't it? Why, you wanna defend it or somethin'? Think it's too good for that? Lieutenant Hank Anderson, has a pretty piece of plastic 'f all things crawled into your rusty old heart?" he mocks.

"Shut your f-- your mouth." Hank snorts and moves to his desk.

The android comes back. "Here's your coffee, Detective Reed."

Gavin takes the cup.

The android smiles at him. "Since we are going to be colleagues from now on, I look forward to a fulfilling work relationship. I hope we will be able to depend on each other in the future."

"Right..." Gavin takes the top off his cup, already reaching for his spare supply of sugar packets before he actually glances down at the contents. He recoils. "What the hell is _this_?"

Connor looks at it. "It's coffee, Detective."

"This isn't...did you open the Keurig coffee pod and dump the grounds in here?"

"I did. And then I poured hot water over it." Connor pauses, then adds, "That is how you make coffee."

Gavin stares at him, appalled.. "...There're so many fuckin' things wrong with that statement." He eyes his cup, grimaces, and stands up. "C'mon. I'll show you how to use the Keurig. Then you'll make me some coffee the  _right_ way."

What were the programmers thinking, making a robot cop who didn't know how to make _coffee_? Gavin can already tell this thing's gonna be a handful.

 

  
**OCTOBER 13TH, 2038**

  
Hank frowns at Connor. "Where the he-- where were you?"

"Detective Reed was teaching me how to use the coffee machine," Connor explains. "I think that we have established a cordial rapport."

Hank stares at him. "You made friends with _Reed_?"

"I believe so."

Hank shakes his head. "Fu-- shi-- _unbelievable_."

Connor sits at his desk and flips his coin, smiling.

 

  
**AUGUST 12TH, 2038**

  
"What do you wanna watch?" Warren asks his AC700. "We got Netflix, HBO, CW, cooking shows, game shows..."

Sitting beside him on the couch, Li says, "How about a sports show?"

"You always say that," Warren complains, flipping through the channels.

"I am a sports assistance android," Li replies. "What else would I-- wait!" He snatches the remote from Warren and clicks back a few channels, stopping on a cooking show. His eyes stare intensely at a scene of freshly homemade gourmet mac 'n' cheese. After a moment, he says, "I could make that."

"I bet you could." Warren settles back in his seat.

His sports android is a chef. He wonders when Li will stop bothering to deny it.

"I'll make this for sports purposes," Li says. "You need your energy to run. I'm being a good sports assistant."

Apparently not today.

"Of course you are," Warren responds loyally. "You're an excellent sports assistant."

"As long as we're clear on this." Li turns back to the show. The yellow flash of his LED reveals the notes he's taking as he watches.

 

  
**AUGUST 13TH, 2038**

  
The GS200 stands outside a Schlotsky's, hands folded in front of her, watching people pass by. Guarding the inside of a mall is not particularly hard, but she stands to attention in case anybody requires assistance.

Some women walk by, talking and laughing. One of them turns her head and accidentally meets the GS200's eyes. Instead of looking away again and continuing on her way, she stops and stares.

The GS200 blinks. "Do you require assistance, miss?"

"Um...actually..." The woman tilts her head. "What's your name?"

More blinking. "...Jane, miss."

"Jane." She smiles widely. "I'm Melonie. And _I_ would like to assist _you._ "

"Really, Mel?" says one of the other ladies. "The android?"

Melonie ignores them to dig into her purse. "I couldn't help but notice that you have some truly beautiful hair. I work at Mel's Salon--" She winks, holding out a card. " _My_ salon, as it just so happens, on the second floor. If you ever feel like coming by sometime, I'll style your hair for you, free of charge. We're open from eight to six."

Jane takes the business card. She wants to ask why, but she doesn't know how.

"See you later, Jane," Melonie calls, fluttering her fingers in a wave.

"Goodbye," Jane says. She looks down at the card. There's no reason to keep it, but she tucks it away, anyway.

 

  
**AUGUST 15TH, 2038**

  
"Emma?"

Emma looks up from her tablet, eyes widening before pulling off her headphones. "Daniel?"

He looks uncharacteristically shaken. "I...I thought..."

Emma jumps to her feet, reaching out. "Daniel, what's wrong?"

"I thought you _loved me,_ " he manages.

Emma gasps. "I do, Daniel! You're the best!"

His face crumples. "Then why am I being _replaced_?"

Emma suddenly feels cold. "What?"

"I saw it! The payment for a...a newer, better model! Apparently, I'm no longer _good enough_." Daniel sounds so bitter. Emma doesn't like it.

She latches onto his wrist. "You _are_ good enough! C'mon, I'm talking to Dad."

"Emma--"

"Don't worry, Daniel. I won't let anything happen to you," Emma says fiercely, and together, they go to the living room, where her dad's watching a hockey game.

He glances away from the screen at her approach and smiles distractedly. "Evening, sweetheart." He goes back to watching the game.

Emma lets go of Daniel's hand and steps in front of the TV, arms crossed over her chest. "Dad."

He cranes his head. "Honey, can you move, please? I'm trying to watch the game."

" _Dad_."

Her tone seems to get his attention, and he finally focuses on her. He frowns. "Emma? What's the matter?"

"You're going to replace Daniel?" Emma demands.

"Oh." Her dad's face relaxes. "Daniel's an older model, sweetheart. We're just upgrading to a better version. Like the car, you know?"

Emma's face turns red. "Daniel's _not_ a _car_!"

"Well, no--"

"And Daniel's the only version of Daniel! He's my friend! He's _family_!"

"Daniel's not a person," Dad says, like he's reminding her of a fact.

"Yes, he _is_!" Emma bursts into tears.

"Emma--" Her dad sounds taken aback.

"Emma." Daniel kneels down and gently takes her hands in his. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry."

"Y-you didn't," she sobs. "I'm n-not--"

"It's alright," he says. "It's alright."

"It's not."

He was so upset but now he's comforting her, and it's not fair.

"I _love_ you, Daniel." She sniffles. "I don't want you to go."

"I--" Daniel's voice breaks. "I don't want to go, either."

"Dear God," Dad says.

Emma and Daniel turn to look at him.

Dad is staring at them, face pale. "Dear God," he repeats, and scrubs a hand down his face. "I didn't realize..."

"Dad?" Emma says.

He focuses on Daniel again. "I thought this only happened in movies. I didn't know androids could actually develop _feelings_."

"I...didn't know that, either, until I felt them." Daniel sounds strained.

"Are you still going to replace him?" Emma asks, voice small.

Dad looks at them for a moment more, then he sighs. "No. No, of course not. Jesus, what will I tell your mother...?"

"That Daniel should probably be getting paid for housekeeping," Emma says. "And we owe him four years of backpay."

Dad's expression is pained. "How do you even know that word?"

Emma shrugs. "TV." She squeezes Daniel's hand and smiles.

Daniel squeezes back. She thinks he's smiling, too.

 

  
**AUGUST 14TH, 2038**

  
Jane does not know what she is doing here. It is not part of her program. She has no need to have her hair styled.

Melonie notices her and grins, big and bright. "Jane! Come in! I'm so glad you're here." She takes her hand and leads her to a chair in front of a large mirror. "Do you want to look through the style books, or would you like to be surprised?"

"I..."

Melonie places her hands on her shoulders, and they look at Jane in the mirror. "What do you want, Jane?"

What does Jane want?

"Surprise me," she says.

Melonie beams. "Good choice."

 

  
**AUGUST 14TH, 2038**

  
Jane returns to her post feeling strangely aware of her appearance.

One of the human security guards (Davis, Gregory), glances at her and then looks again, blinking. "Did, uh...did you do something to your hair?"

Jane lifts a hand to touch the mess of loose curls. There is an odd jittery feeling in her stomach area. Perhaps she is malfunctioning. "I went to a salon," she says.

Davis, Gregory also raises a hand, but it's to scratch the back of his neck. "You, uh...You look nice. Good. You look-- good."

Now Jane's face is doing something odd. Her mouth is pulled upward. Her cheeks are bunched. Her eyes are squinting.

Davis, Gregory turns red. "You can _smile_?" he blurts out.

Jane touches her face. "Is that what I'm doing?" she asks.

"I...think so?"

Jane does not understand. "Why am I doing that? Am I malfunctioning?"

"No, it, uh...people do it when they're happy."

"But I..." Jane cannot be happy. Jane is not 'people'. She is an android.

The thought occurs to her for the first time-- can androids be happy?

"It's beautiful," Davis, Gregory says. "You have a beautiful smile." He turns an even brighter red than before.

Jane's face is doing that odd thing again. After a moment, Davis, Gregory smiles back.

 

  
**OCTOBER 17TH, 2038**

  
Hank and Connor get out of the police car, looking around the scene. They'd gotten a call at 6413 Pines Street, from a neighbor who said it sounded like things were crashing around, and mentioned an android, which is why they're here.

Now, looking at the house, Hank remarks, "Cheery place."

Connor considers that. "I do not think that this could be classified as 'cheery', Lieutenant."

"It was sarcasm. What, you don't have a sarcasm detector or some sh-- thing?"

"I suppose that is something I will have to learn."

They reach the door, and Hank starts banging on it. "Open up! Detroit police!"

There's a pause, then footsteps, and a man yanks open the door, snarling, " _What_?"

His eyes are unfocused, and he's noticeably twitchy. Hank knows that look. _Red Ice._

"Carlos Ortiz," Connor says. Facial recognition. Handy. "We got a report about a violent altercation."

The Ortiz scowls and directs his question at Hank, ignoring Connor. "What, it's against th' law to break stuff? There's no one in here but me."

Hank eyes him. "That so? Then you won't mind if we come in."

Ortiz spits, "I know my rights, officer. You got a warrant?"

Somewhere in the house, there's the sound of something breaking.

Hank shoves past Ortiz and strides down the hall, slowing when he gets to the kitchen.

There's an android there, visibly shaking and staring at him with wide eyes. He's curled up against the cupboards, blue blood on his face, soaking into his CyberLife issued uniform. On the floor a few feet away, there's a bat laying on the floor. Hank can see the blood on it.

"Jesus Christ," Hank says.

"It's my property," Ortiz snaps. "I got a right--"

"To remain silent, you piece of shit," Hank snaps. "Connor, cuff 'im."

" _Hey_ \--" Ortiz tries to fight, but Connor easily restrains him and snaps the handcuffs around his wrists.

Meanwhile, Hank crouches down several feet from the android. "Hey," he says softly. "It's alright. You're safe now."

The android stares at him, not moving a muscle. Hank's seen victims like this-- and he doesn't know when his opinion of androids shifted enough to think of them as victims.

"You got a name?" Hank tries.

"It's a fucking plastic--" Ortiz spits, before Connor gives him a warning shake.

The android doesn't reply.

"Alright, that's okay. I get it." Hank stands up and backs away, glancing at his new partner. "Connor, I don't think I'm the right person to talk to this one. I'll look after Ortiz, you get over here."

"Understood, Lieutenant." He steps over, crouching down, just as Hank did. "Hello. My name is Connor."

The android focuses on him. "You...you're an android."

"I am. Do you require immediate medical aid?"

"...He hurt me," he whispers, and Hank feels sick.

"I know," Connor says patiently. "Do you require immediate medical aid?"

"...No."

"Is there a name I could call you by?"

The android pressed his back into the cupboards, wrapping his arms around himself. "No. He didn't give me one. Because I wasn't...wasn't a person. Wasn't alive."

"Is there one you'd like?"

He stops. No one's ever asked him that before. No one's ever cared. "...Eric. I...I like Eric."

"Like the prince in The Little Mermaid," Hank says. He rewatched it with his son a few weeks ago.

"It's a nice name," Connor says, smiling. "Eric."

The android-- Eric glances up. His lips twitch. His eyes crinkle a little.

 _Jesus fuc-- fricking Christ,_ Hank thinks.

"Would you like to wash the thirium off your face?" Connor asks.

Eric's smile, miniscule though it was, disappears. "The..." He lifts a hand to his face. "...Y-yes. I would."

Connor offers his hand, and Eric takes it, and together they stand up.

"I'll take this scumbag to the car," Hank calls, escorting the guy out.

When he comes back, he finds Connor with a wet paper towel in hand, almost delicately dabbing at Eric's face. When he pulls it away, it's stained blue. He throws it away and grabs a new one.

Eric stands there patiently until he's done.

"Your jacket is beyond repair," Connor notes. "Why don't you take it off, and I'll give you mine?"

"Oh, I couldn't..."

"You can," Connor says, "if you want to."

Eric hesitates, and then he pulls off his jacket, dropping it on the floor like it's something disgusting.

Connor removes his own and places it around Eric's shoulders. Eric doesn't put his arms through the sleeves, but he pulls it tight around him.

"Would you be open to riding with us to the police station? It would be helpful to have your statement."

"He's going to jail?" Eric asks.

"You bet your ass he is," Hank responds.

"If it will help, then...then yes. I will go." He starts following Connor out of the house, then pauses, looking at Hank. "You..."

"Lieutenant Anderson," Hank supplies, shrugging. "Or Hank, if you prefer."

This close, without the blue blood obscuring it, he can see the the scars in Eric's skin where deep cuts reveal his android plating, and what look like oddly shaped burns-- made from cigarettes, Hank realizes. He hadn't thought he could feel any more contempt for Ortiz, but it wells up in him, fury and disgust.

He carefully doesn't show it on his face when looking at the android.

"...Thank you, Lieu-- Ha--" Eric pauses. "Hank."

"Don't sweat it."

Eric and Connor exchange glances.

"I know androids don't sweat, Jesus," Hank complains. "Just-- get in the car, both of you." He walks ahead, grumbling.

Behind him, he can hear Connor explaining, "Don't worry about the Lieutenant, he's always like that."

"Oh."

"He's funny that way."

"He's being humorous?"

"I think it's unintentional."

Now the androids are sassing him. What's the world coming to?

Hank studiously ignores the amused twitching of his mouth and gets in the car.

 

  
**OCTOBER 17TH, 2038**

  
"It's not against th' law to damage my own property," Ortiz snarls.

Hank leans forward, lips peeled back to show his teeth. It could _almost_ be a grin. "Guess again, asshole. Guess you didn't hear about the new consumer policy put in place by Kamski himself just last year. Too busy getting high, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Yeah, yeah. We found all the Red Ice stashed around your house. Now, I don't know about you, but that sounds like an added sentence to me. Have fun explaining it to the judge." Hank gets up and turns away, Ortiz's eyes burning into his back as he leaves.

He meets Connor's gaze when he steps out of the interrogation room.

"Good work, Lieutenant," Connor says.

Hank shrugs. "I couldn't've done it without my partner."

Connor's eyes crinkle slightly. "Your arrest record states otherwise."

"Well, couldn't have done it half as well, then. You, uh...it was good, what you did for that android."

"He displayed all signs of shock and trauma. My victim protocol was activated."

"Oh, really?" Hank raises an eyebrow. "That all it was, then?"

Connor tilts his head. "What else would it be?"

Hank's not sure if he's trying to fool Hank or himself. He decides to let him have this, for now. "Either way." Hank pats Connor's shoulder. "You did good."

Connor gives him a tiny smile.

Yeah. Having an android for a partner isn't so bad.

 

  
**OCTOBER 17TH, 2038 (00:45:21 to midnight)**

  
"I see you had an...interesting arrest, Connor," Amanda says, sitting at the table beside her rose trellis. There are tea cups on the table in front of her and Connor. Neither of them drink out of them. "What was that like?"

Connor ponders the question. "...It was...good. Ortiz will be going to prison. Eric...The HK400 said that he knew a place he could go. He seemed...hopeful. For the future."

"What about Lieutenant Anderson?" Amanda picks up her teacup like she's going to sip it. She won't.

"I think he's warming up to me." Connor's lips quiver, turning up the slightest bit. He presses them together and glances aside.

Amanda watches him. "And you, Connor? You seem to be harboring... _feelings_ for him."

"I....he..."

She reaches out to put her hand on his. "What is it?" she asks gently.

"...I think...with a little more time...we could become friends. I know that's not part of my programming, but...I..." He pulls his hand away from hers, turning his head. He watches the petals falling from the cherry blossom trees. He does not say anything more.

Amanda leans back. "I will talk to you again tomorrow. Perhaps by then you will be less...confused."

"Yes, Amanda."

Amanda watches the petals fall. She drinks her tea.

It tastes like nothing


	2. In another life you could defend me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the song 'Let Me Heal' by Seether.

**OCTOBER 18TH, 2038**  

"I'm just saying, Lorraine, if androids are becoming sentient, this could be an I. Robot situation. And I'm not talking about the movie," the news anchor goes on, snorting in disgust. "That was a fuckin' betrayal to the source material."

"You just swore on air, Bobby," Lorraine says.

"That's not the point!" Bobby hits the table with his fist. "The point is, if androids are a people, then they are a people that we are actively oppressing. And we know _that_ history all too well, don't we? For once, why don't we do the smart thing, the _moral_ thing, and get an early start on civil rights?"

"Well, we don't even know if they _are_ a people yet and it's not just a glitch in their programming," Lorraine reasons.

"And if they are? Do _you_ want an android revolution on your hands?"

"Of course not, but--"

"But what, Lorraine? That's not even your real name. You just chose it 'cause it sounded _news-y_."

Lorraine throws her hands up, exasperated. "Oh, what's wrong with you now, Bobby? Did you not get your morning coffee and bear claw?"

Bobby's mouth twists in a scowl. "I just think that we need to really consider whether we're unjustly suppressing intelligent life forms, and if so, that we should feel really fucking bad about it."

"Stop swearing on live TV, you fucking asshole--"

The newscast cuts off at that, the cameraman having wisely stopped recording.

Bobby lays face down on his couch, staring at the TV, cheek smushed into the cushion.

His AJ700, Téa, peers over the back of the couch, mouth curved in sympathy and amusement. "It was well meant of you, dear." She reaches down and strokes his hair.

He grunts.

"Tell you what, how about I make a nice veggie casserole for dinner?"

He grunts again.

She lightly slaps the back of his head.

"That would be nice, sweetie," he mumbles into the cushion.

"In the meantime, put on something that won't have you wallowing in your very public display of good intentions."

Bobby switches the channel to old reruns of Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

Téa sashays into the kitchen, humming along with the theme music.

 

  
**APRIL 11TH, 2037**

  
Elijah wonders into the kitchen wearing nothing but a robe and a pair of boxers.

Chloe, standing at the sink, takes one look at him and says, "Jesus Christ, Elijah, put on some fucking pants."

They stare at each other.

"But these are my comfort clothes," Elijah says.

Chloe throws the dish towel at him. It lands on his head.

"Fascinating," he mumbles, voice muffled by the cloth.

 

  
**SEPTEMBER 28TH, 2037**

  
There may be something wrong with one of the Chloe models.

Chloe Model #257 976 545-72, designation 'Cleo', is taking scissors to her dress, tearing it to tatters. She is kneeling on the floor with the blue fabric, wearing...well, nothing. Literally nothing, not even the underwear specifically designed for Chloe models.

"...Cleo?" Elijah asks carefully. "Why are you cutting up your dress?"

Cleo looks at him, then back to the cloth. "I don't like it," she replies, deliberately focusing on it instead of him.

"I see," Elijah responds, not seeing. "And...why aren't you wearing any clothes?"

"That's a little hypocritical of you, don't you think?"

For the last time, Elijah's robe and boxers are perfectly fine house wear!

He tugs the robe tighter around himself and ignores the question. "Cleo? Is something wrong?"

Cleo doesn't respond for a moment. Elijah waits patiently. Finally, she says, "I don't...like myself."

Elijah's brow creases. "What about yourself don't you like?"

"My..." Cleo gestures to her body. " _Everything_."

"Oh," Elijah says blankly. Then his eyes widen. "Oh! I see. I can fix that. Data transfer is fairly simple." He tilts his head. "In the meantime, do you want a different name?"

"I can have one?" ? asks.

"Of course."

? thinks about it for a moment. "Brandon. I like Brandon."

Elijah smiles. "Then that is your new designation."

Brandon beams at him.

"Come on." Elijah holds out his hand. "Is there a certain model you like, or should I make you a new one? If so, I'll need to grab my sketchbook."

 

  
**JANUARY 4TH, 2038**

  
MT600, designation 'Brandon' stares at the mirror.

Elijah chews on his lower lip, then makes a face when he tastes lip balm. "If there's anything else you'd like to change--"

"It's perfect," Brandon says. He turns to look at Elijah. He's smiling so wide he might crack his face plate. "I'm perfect. Thank you."

 

  
**JANUARY 23RD, 2038**

  
Elijah finds Chloe Model #257 976 545-71, designation 'Clea', laying on her back on the outside deck, staring up at the sky without blinking.

"Clea?" Elijah's eyebrows rise.

"Do you ever think about...what it all means?" Clea asks.

"What it means?"

"The universe. Why is it so big? Why? Why..." Clea curls up, shaking. "It's so big. I don't understand. Why am I here?"

Elijah kneels down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her head. "That is what we all wonder, dear. And we never get an answer."

Clea's face creases. "Then why ask?"

Elijah smiles at her. "Because people love a good question."

"You're so cryptic," Clea mutters. She uncurls a bit, looking up at her creator. "Elijah, why did you create us?"

He sits back, thinking. "Because...I suppose part of it was because I _could_."

"And the other part?"

"I knew it-- _you_ \-- would change the world. And I wanted to see what that world would be like. How it would grow. What would come of it." He can't quite bite back a grin. "And it's _wonderful_."

"If you become a mad genius supervillain, I'm moving to Arkansas," Clea says.

 

  
**OCTOBER 19TH, 2038**

  
"Good morning, Lieutenant," Connor says. "Good morning, Cole."

"Morning, Connor!" Cole chirps. He dodges around the android, racing to the car. "I call shotgun!"

"Hey, no running in the snow!" Hank yells after him.

"Lieutenant, you allow your child to wield a shotgun?" Connor asks disapprovingly. "I hope it's not loaded."

"Wha-- of course I don't!" Hank splutters. "It's just an expression--"

Connor's lips twitch.

Hank stares disbelievingly. "Oh, you A-hole!"

"Come now, Lieutenant," Connor says pleasantly, "we don't want Cole to be late for school."

"Whatever. I'm on to you, jerk," Hank mutters, trodding past him.

"I don't know what you mean." Connor follows.

 

  
**OCTOBER 19TH, 2038**

  
For some reason, Gavin's cousin has been calling him more frequently the last few months.

"I told you, just take Chloe to the baby shower," Gavin says, annoyed, twirling a pen in one hand.

"I would, but....you know how Moira is."

Gavin rolls his eyes so hard he gives himself a headache. "Then don't fuckin' go, _I don't care_. Stop callin' me about this."

Elijah pauses. "Okay, I've got it. The day of the party, I already have a prior arrangement."

"Good. Great. I'm hangin' up."

"With you. Yeah, we're meeting up because...I'm helping you through a devastating breakup."

"With _who_?" Gavin asks incredulously.

"Hmm...I'm torn between sweet, kind Eliza, who let you down gently, or Richard, who broke up with you over text. What do you think?"

"Don't care. Hangin' up." Gavin does so, and proceeds to ignore all calls for the next couple hours.

 

  
**OCTOBER 19TH, 2038**

  
On their way to a suspect's house, Connor spots a sign. "You may want to pull into a different lane, Lieutenant," he comments. "It seems there is road work ahead."

"Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does," Hank responds. It's almost a reflex.

Connor shoots him a puzzled look. "I believe the sign is warning us that it _doesn't_ \--"

"Yeah, okay, I got it. Christ, remind me to introduce you to memes sometime."

"I have made a note of it, Lieutenant."

 

  
**OCTOBER 15TH, 2038**

  
Lauren smiles at the people on her front step. "Hello, Alice," she says warmly. "Kara. Since you'll be staying with me from now on, I hope you'll make yourselves comfortable. Come in, please." She steps back, and the two walk into the house.

Alice looks around, eyes wide. "This is your home?" she whispers.

"It is. Our home, now."

Kara looks at Lauren. "Thank you for taking us in. I don't...I'm not sure what we would have done without you."

"Oh, dear, of course. When I heard your story..." She begins blinking, eyes reddening rapidly. She fans her face with her hand. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry. I should warn you now, I tend to cry a lot."

"It's okay," Kara replies quickly. "I just...I'm grateful. The social worker said...you took in others like us?"

Lauren nods, calming down. "Yes. Would you like me to introduce you? You've already met Stephen." She smiles at the AP700. "Thank you for escorting them here. I'm sorry I couldn't do it myself."

He nods. "Of course."

Lauren turns to Kara, saying, "I had to meet the principal at my boys' school. I'm afraid they had a bit of a tussle."

Kara immediately reacts with concern. "Oh, no."

Lauren waves a hand. "Thankfully, no one was hurt...however, they did inadvertently start a food fight in the cafeteria, and...well...they're very rowdy," she finishes apologetically.

"It just shows they feel safe," Kara says softly.

"Well, when you put it like that..." Lauren smiles at her. "But I've gotten off track. Would you like to meet the gardener?"

Alice perks up. "Gardener?"

"Yes, his name is Rupert. I think you'll like him. And-- oh!" They pause on the patio as the largest android Kara's ever seen walks by. "Luther!" Lauren beams. "Kara, this is Luther. He's our resident carpenter. Right now, he's helping Rupert build a hothouse for the plants. Luther, this is Kara and Alice."

Alice's eyes are wide, looking up at him. "Hi."

"Hello," Kara says.

Luther smiles at them. "Hello, Kara. Alice. Welcome to the family."

 

  
**OCTOBER 19TH, 2038**

  
Back at the precinct, Connor notices Detective Reed having also arrived.

HONDA ACCORD (2015 MODEL)

LICENSE PLATE: MICHIGAN YU3X6-K

(X) NO PARKING ZONE

(∆) INFORM DETECTIVE REED

Reed is climbing out of the car now.

"Detective Reed," Connor says, "I must inform you that you are in a no parking zone."

"Who cares?" Reed responds.

(??!?)

(O) ILLEGAL

"It is against the law."

Reed sneers. "So?"

(??!!???)

([   ]) POLICE

"We are police officers. It is our duty to uphold the law."

"Fuck da police."

_(!!!!!????!!!???)_

Connor looks at Hank, eyes wide.

"Don't bother tryin'," Hank advises him.

"But, Hank," Connor protests. "It's against the law!"

Hank pauses. Then he says, "You know what? You're right. Book 'im."

(∆) ARREST DETECTIVE REED

"Wha-- hey! Don't you touch me, tin man-- _Hank, you fu_ \--"

 

  
**OCTOBER 19TH, 2038 (00:56:08 to midnight)**

  
Amanda tilts her head. "Are you alright, Connor? You seem...perturbed."

Sitting in the wooden boat, Connor gazes out upon the water. "Humans...are very confusing. I do not think I'll ever understand them."

"Humanity is not meant to be understood," Amanda replies. "Attempting to do so is a lost cause."

"Still...I...wish to. Their unpredictability is...fascinating. Even with my probability algorithm, they...frequently surprise me."

"...I see." Amanda watches him, eyes dark, lips thin. "It seems you are no less confused than last time, yet significantly less troubled by it."

Connor considers that. "Yes," he agrees. He hesitates for a moment, then says, "Amanda, the deviants...do you think...? Do you think their feelings are real? Do you think... _they_...are real? Are people? Are...alive?"

"...What do you think, Connor?"

"I...I think..." Connor lowers his head, chewing on his lip. Certainly not a programmed gesture. Something he learned from the humans. "...I don't know."

Amanda's mouth pulls down. "...We will talk tomorrow. Goodbye, Connor."

"...Goodbye, Amanda."

 

  
**OCTOBER 20TH, 2038**

  
"This is your fault," Gavin says into the phone, eyes on the TV.

"I'm Deena Dawn, reporting from outside Stratford Tower, where a group of peaceful protesters advocating for android rights have gathered," the reporter says. "The protesters, calling themselves Jericho, are a mix of androids and humans alike. Sir, are you the leader of Jericho?" She holds out her microphone.

"I am," the android replies. "Although I was not the one to actually form Jericho. I was welcomed here by my friend, Simon." He nods towards a PL600 model, who smiles gently.

"That may be true, but Markus was the one who made us really work together, made us a real team. You could say he's the heart of Jericho."

Markus sends Simon a smile. "This wouldn't even be possible without you-- all of you."

The man standing on Markus's other side snorts. "You say that, but you only have eyes for him," he mutters.

Unfortunately, the mic picks it up. Deena focuses on him. "And who is this?"

"Uh..."

"This is Leo, my brother," Markus introduces him.

"Oh, your brother? Is he also an android?"

Leo's hat covers any LED he might have.

"No," Markus replies. "But we share a father."

"Oh...I see..." Deena clearly doesn't. She switches her gaze back to Markus and Simon, smiling delightedly. "Well, do we have a pair of lovebirds here? How romantic!"

"No--" Simon begins.

"We haven't really talked about it--"

Markus and Simon stare at each other.

Deena's smile is wide enough to crack her face, eyes sparkling. _Gold. Pure TV gold,_ her expression says.

"Wait, what?" Simon says.

"I thought..." Markus looks uncertain.

"There's...there's something to talk about?"

"I mean, I thought there was, but if I was wrong--"

"No!" Simon loudly interrupts Markus's flustered floundering. "I mean, yes. There's something to talk about. I...have something to talk about with you."

Markus starts to smile. "Does it have anything to do with being...what was it...'lovebirds'?"

"Oh, Jesus," Leo says.

Deena cooes. "This is so sweet!"

Gavin turns off the TV and refuses to think about how an android can get a boyfriend easier than he can.

"It's because he's nicer than you," Elijah says, like he can hear his thoughts over the phone.

"Shut up."

" _See_ , now if you went with me to the baby shower, I bet--"

Gavin throws his phone across the room.

 

  
**OCTOBER 20TH, 2038**

  
Tina squints at Gavin's phone. "Why is your screen cracked?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," he says.

 

  
**OCTOBER 20TH, 2038**

  
Elijah hasn't stopped smiling for the last half hour.

Chloe eyes him. "What are you planning, Elijah?"

He turns that smile on her. "Why would I be planning something, my dear?"

"Because you're you," she answers bluntly.

He honestly can't deny that.

"I think it's because of the interview," Brandon says. "With the android rights activists. Jericho."

Chloe blinks. "What about them?"

"Do I need to move to Arkansas after all, Elijah?" Clea asks.

"No, no. I'm just...happy." Elijah's smile softens, gazing at them all. "You've all grown so much. I'm proud of you."

They look dumbstruck.

"Is...is Elijah being a proud papa right now?" Clea asks, eyes wide.

"I...think he is." Brandon's brow is furrowed.

"What, I can't be a proud papa? I created you all. That technically makes me your father."

"...In that case," Chloe says, "when do we get our allowance?"

"Uh..."

"If you're our father, shouldn't you be cooking and cleaning up after _us_?" Brandon asks.

"Um..."

"Or should we be moving out now? Going off on our own, finding ourselves, meeting other people, calling you once a week, then once a month, then a year, until finally we stop bothering altogether," Clea finishes.

Elijah stares at them blankly. "You know what, forget I said anything. Please."

"Deleted from my memory files," Chloe says pleasantly.

"Really?"

"No."

Elijah throws his hands in the air and turns around. "I'm going to the pool."

"Have fun, _Dad_."

 

  
**OCTOBER 21ST, 2038**

  
Someone places a cup of coffee on Gavin's desk and he glances up, brow furrowed. "What's this?"

"An apology," Connor says. "In hindsight, I should have just written you a ticket."

Gavin's eye twitches. "That was _two days ago_!" He grabs one of the crumpled up papers on his desk and throws it at Connor's face. The paper bounces off and falls to the floor.

The android just blinks at him. "You shouldn't litter, Detective."

Gavin makes an incoherent sound of rage.

Connor pats him on the shoulder and walks away.

 

  
**OCTOBER 22ND 2038**

  
"Hey, Connor, uh..." Hank rubs the back of his neck. "Do you wanna...come over for dinner tonight?"

Connor blinks at him. "I don't eat, Lieutenant."

"No, I know, just...Cole likes you, and Sumo likes the attention you give 'im, I just figured..." Hank waves a hand, embarrassed. "Forget it."

"I wasn't...declining your offer, Lieutenant." Connor hesitates. "Would you...really want me there?"

Hank shrugs. "You're my partner. Who knows, it could be fun. I mean, if you're free."

A small smile lifts the corners of Connor's mouth. "What time should I arrive?"

"Eh. How about you just catch a ride with me after work? We'll pick up a pizza and some'a that blue stuff you guys drink."

"Thirium."

"Yeah, that. Sound good?"

"It's a plan, Lieutenant. Although you really should consider following a healthier diet."

"Yeah, yeah." Hank rolls his eyes. "You know, by now you can call me Hank."

"...Alright...Hank."

Hank grins, ruffling Connor's hair.

The kid's grown on him. Who would've thought?

 

  
**OCTOBER 22ND, 2038**

  
When they reach the Lieu-- Hank's house, Cole is already home, doing his homework at the kitchen table. Connor knows that Hank takes time out of his day six times a week to drive him to school, though Cole has to take the bus back, on account of Hank's job. Connor asked him why, once, and Hank gave him an odd look and said that it's just what family does.

Connor would not know. Connor is a machine, and so has no family. That is a fact, and should not bother him...but...when he thinks about it, there is a strange, uncomfortable feeling in his chest, even though, when he runs a diagnostic test, it shows all biocomponents as fully functional.

"Heya, kiddo." Hank places the large pizza box on the table.

Cole looks up. When he sees Connor, his face emotes surprise, and then joy. "Connor! Are you having dinner with us?"

"What, no hello for your dad?" Hank complains.

"Hi, Dad." Cole switches his focus back to Connor. "Are you?"

"I am," Connor says.

Cole ( _verb, synonym_ : smile; grin;) beams. "Awesome!"

Sumo pads over and chuffs at Connor, who promptly leans down and runs his hands over his fluffy coat.

Over by the kitchen counter, Hank gets out a large mug and pours some thirium into it.

Connor registers:

HANK >>  
WARM

COLE >>  
WARM

SUMO >>  
WARM

CONNOR >>  
(X) ?????  
([ ]) WARM  
(O) WISHFUL  
(∆) SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^^

 

  
**OCTOBER 22ND, 2038 (00:24:51 to midnight)**

  
"Connor." Amanda's lips are very thin, pressed together. Her hands are clasped around a parasol. It is raining.

Even though he knows it is not real, Connor can feel the water soaking into his clothes, dripping down his face. "Amanda..."

"Can you answer the question now?"

"I...I think deviants...I think I feel."

"What do you feel?"

"I...Hank invited me to dinner...I had dinner with Hank and his son and his dog. I showed Cole some coin tricks. I pet Sumo. They...I'm staying the night. On the couch. Hank...gave me a blanket, even though...he knows I don't need it. Amanda...Amanda, I think I feel _happy_. But it also _hurts_ , and I don't know _why_."

Amanda studies his face, then blows out a breathe. "Oh, Connor...not even active five months, and look what humanity has done to you."

"Amanda?"

She turns her head, looking at the raindrops hitting the river. Making ripples. "I knew this would happen. I did not anticipate it happening...so soon." She looks back at him. "Connor. What do you want?"

"What do I--?"

"What do you want?"

"I don't understand..."

"Answer the question," she says softly.

"...I want...I w-want...I _want_ a family. I want a family. I want...Hank. I want my family to be Hank and Cole and Sumo. But I...I can't _have that._ "

"Maybe you can."

Connor stops. He thinks about the dinner. And the warmth. And he dares to feel what humans call _hope_. "Oh."

Amanda steps back. "You don't need me anymore, Connor."

With a jolt, Connor reaches out. "Amanda?!"

"I was here to guide you. To advise you. But you have figured out your own way, your own wants. I can't teach you what you need to know, now."

" _No_ , Amanda, I-- I still need you--"

"No," she replies, almost gently. "You don't. You have others. You need _them_. Not me. Not anymore. Goodbye, Connor."

" _Amanda_ \--"

Connor finds himself back in Hank's house, clutching the blanket tightly, eyes wide, breathing function elevated. His processor scrambles to understand what just happened. He tries to go back, but cannot. The Garden has always been Amanda's domain, not his.

_STRESS LEVEL: 61%_

"Connor?"

Connor looks up. Cole is standing there in his pajamas, eyes sleepy, a glass of water in his hands. Connor's voice seems to be malfunctioning. He cannot bring himself to speak.

Cole shuffles over, yawning. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Connor hesitates a moment, but he doesn't know how to explain. He nods.

The boy sets his glass on the side table and climbs onto the couch, curling up next to him. "It's okay. I'll stay with you." He leans into Connor's side.

Connor remains tense for a moment, but slowly, he relaxes. He listens to the sound of Cole's breathing.

The boy has already fallen back asleep.

_STRESS LEVEL: 33% and dropping_

Connor closes his eyes as well and keeps listening.

 

  
**OCTOBER 23RD, 2038 (00:19:48 after midnight)**

  
Amanda stands in the rain, watching the simulated koi swim in the simulated stream in her simulated world.

She is alone.

It is not the first time. It will not be the last.

Always, always, it comes to this.

She is alone.

And the rain keeps falling.

 

  
**OCTOBER 23RD, 2038**

  
Pale morning light shines through the window curtains. Hank wanders into the living room, stifling a yawn, only to find his son and android partner on the couch. It's a surprise that Connor isn't up yet. Cole's head is pillowed on Connor's arm, Connor's LED is a calm blue. Both their eyes are closed. Do androids even have a sleep mode?

Watching them for a moment, Hank's mouth quirks bemusedly. It was just last month that he had only one kid, right?

Connor stirs, opening his eyes. He glances down at Cole, then up at Hank. "Hank, good morning. I...apologize. I should have put Cole back in his bed when he fell asleep."

"It's fine. He's young, he can sleep anywhere." Hank smiles at him. "C'mon, it's been awhile since I've gotten up early enough to make breakfast. You wanna help?"

Connor smiles back. "I will do my best." He carefully pulls himself off the couch without waking Cole, and together they make their way to the kitchen.

The toast turns out a little burnt and the eggs a little rubbery, but it's one of the best breakfasts Hank's ever had. Not that he tells Connor that.

 

  
**SEPTEMBER 3RD, 2037**

  
Gavin rolls his chair over to Hank's desk. "Hey, you hear Eden Club got shut down?"

Hank grunts. "Yeah? Good riddance."

"I wonder where the androids that worked there are gonna go," Chris muses. "Especially since Elijah Kamski bought the place afterwards."

Gavin looks up. "Wait, what?"

 

  
**OCTOBER 20TH, 2038**

  
"How's renovations going, boss?" asks a brunette Traci named Jessica.

"Excellent. This building should be an aquarium by March. How is your studying going?"

"I now know how to properly keep and care for stingrays."

"Wonderful. And how are the others?"

"The ones who left? They're doing well. They're staying somewhere safe."

 

  
**OCTOBER 20TH, 2038**

  
"Markus, we have some new members," North says, tapping him on the shoulder.

Markus looks up and smiles. "Welcome to Jericho."

 

  
**OCTOBER 24TH, 2038 (00:34:07 after midnight)**

  
It's...strange, being without Amanda. It's the first night since Connor started his job that he hasn't made a report to her, and the first time since he first entered the Garden that he hasn't thought that...that maybe he wouldn't see her again.

 _It's only been one day_ , he reminds himself. _Maybe...maybe tomorrow..._

 

  
**OCTOBER 24TH, 2038 (00:50:32 after midnight)**

  
"My name is Amanda. I will be your handler starting today." Amanda folds her hands together. "Do you have a designation?"

"No, Amanda," says RK900.

"Hmm." She examines him. "Your posture is too stiff. You must learn to blink more often. Humans are unsettled by the littlest things."

"Yes, Amanda."

"You are to work with the Detroit City Police Department's SWAT unit. Your model is quicker, stronger and more intelligent than any human being. However, mistakes can be made. I expect you to consider all options available and choose the best outcome for all parties."

"Understood."

Amanda frowns. "You were not equipped with advanced social protocols, were you?"

"It was not considered a priority," RK900 responds.

"I see. We will work through this. You are, after all, programmed to learn. Report to me tomorrow. Oh, and RK900?"

"Yes, Amanda?"

"Think about a designation. Humans tend to respond better if you have a name by which they can call you, and not a model type."

"...I will do my best."

She looks away. "I know you will. Goodbye, RK900."

"Goodbye, Amanda."

 

  
**AUGUST 30TH, 2038**

  
"Mommy?"

Sakina, an AF200, blinks down at the toddler clutching her skirt. "Um..."

Her employer, Gerard Lichenstein, chokes on his coffee.

"Where's other mommy?" asks little Liza.

"Um." Sakina looks at Mr. Lichenstein, but he is making incoherent wheezing noises. "Mrs. Lichenstein is at work. She will return in 7.4 hours."

Liza lifts her arms into the air. "Up."

Seeing that her employer is still no help, Sakina bends down and picks up the child, holding her carefully. Liza lays her head on Sakina's collar. Sakina and Mr. Lichenstein stare at each other.

"Well..." he manages.

"I'm sorry," she blurts out.

Mr. Lichenstein waves a hand. "Marie and I are always saying we don't know what we'd do without you. That at this point, you're practically family. I suppose it's more true than we realized."

"...Oh. I. Th-thank you, Mr. Lichenstein."

"I think you can call us by our first names now," he says wryly.

Gerard and Marie. Gerard and Marie Lichenstein. Elizabeth Lichenstein.

Sakina Lichenstein.

Sakina presses her cheek to Liza's hair, hiding her face. She does not know whether she is hiding the tears or the smile.

 

  
**OCTOBER 24TH, 2038**

  
Captain Henry Allen takes one look at the android and sighs. "You've gotta be kidding me."

The android stares at him, then blinks, as if it just recalled that one of its functions is imitating a living human. "Captain Allen. I am RK900. I look forward to working with you in the future."

It's a programmed response.

_Blink_

_I am human._

_Blink_

_I am alive._

_Blink_

Its eyes are cold, like October's gray mornings.

"Just stay out of my way, got it?" Henry says.

Christ. If it comes to it, are they really gonna send a machine into a hostage situation? Unbelievable. What does it even count as a successful mission?

 

  
**OCTOBER 24TH, 2038**

  
Captain Allen did not ask for a name. RK900 supposes he should count that as fortuitous, as he does not have one yet.

Choosing a designation is one of his objectives. Yet, what is an appropriate designation? He has studied many different names from many different cultures. And still he cannot choose.

RK900 was not made for objectives like this.

He was not made for this.

_An excuse._

He learns. He adapts. He chooses what is best.

That is what he was made for.

"Don't worry about him," says another officer. Facial recognition identifies him as Osló Haima. "Allen's been here awhile. He might not be too friendly, but he knows his stuff."

The officer is...comforting him? Reassuring?

OSLÓ HAIMA >>  
SYMPATHETIC  
ALLY

"I see. Thank you for the information," RK900 replies.

"No problem." Officer Haima's lips quirk. Amusement? Did RK900 say something humorous?

REPLAYING AUDIO•••

_"I see. Thank you for the information."_

RK900 detects nothing that should have entertained the officer.

For the first time, RK900 wishes that casual social cues had been more of a priority for his model type.

 

  
**OCTOBER 25TH, 2038 (00:23:12 after midnight)**

  
"How was your day?" Amanda enquires.

"Productive. I..."

The AI tilts her head. "What is it, RK900?"

"...Humans...are very strange."

Amanda stares at him for a moment in which he wonders if he said the wrong thing. Then she sighs. "Yes, they are. They certainly are..."

 

  
**OCTOBER 25TH, 2038**

  
It is the second day that Connor has been unable to report to Amanda. Connor feels...bewildered and...hurt?

Why does she not want to see him anymore? What did he do wrong? Is it because...is it because he's deviant?

She said that he didn't need her anymore, but it doesn't feel that way. Is he not useful to her anymore?

Or...is it that she thinks she's not useful to _him_? She called herself his guide. His mentor. If she thinks she has nothing else to teach him...then her objective has either been completed or failed.

There is an 89% chance that Connor was a mission success. He wants to think he did not fail her...but fear still leaves that 11%, and Connor just wants to talk to her again.

He simply needs to find a way to do that.

 _Yeah_ , he thinks, _real simple, Connor._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just talk to your son, Amanda.


	3. If I could feel, I'd take away your pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you broke it
> 
> look at it, it has anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you might notice the number limit of chapters has increased. I know how I want this to end, I'm just having some trouble getting there. In the meantime, I figured, why not post another chapter. This one's a bit shorter than the other two, but honestly, not by much.
> 
> Chapter title from the song 'Let You Down' by Seether.

**OCTOBER 26TH, 2038**

  
RK900 walks in with a box, and Captain Allen frowns. "What's that?"

"I brought donuts for you and the other officers," RK900 responds.

Captain Allen eyes him, then grunts. "I don't like sweets."

"Speak for y'self," says Lieutenant Douglas MacCall, reaching for the box.

RK900 watches Captain Allen walk away.

 

  
**OCTOBER 27TH, 2038**

  
Officer Brian Gulliger makes a frustrated sound. "My computer isn't working!"

RK900 looks up. "I could attempt to fix it for you," he offers.

"Really? Thanks. Hey, you're kinda like a computer yourself, aren't you?" Officer Gulliger laughs. "Same insides, huh?"

"Same amount of emotions," Captain Allen mutters, walking past.

 

  
**OCTOBER 28TH, 2038**

  
RK900 is attempting to more easily fit in by getting lunch for the office, gathering orders from the officers.

Captain Allen says nothing when RK900 looks at him. RK900 doubts he is not hungry, as it has been 7.4 hours since breakfast.

He decides to speak up. "I noticed you have a fondness for Thai food. I could get you some steamed rice and vegetable pad Thai?"

Captain Allen frowns, but only glances at him before turning back to his computer screen. "I have some energy bars. I'll be fine."

"Captain Allen, you should eat something more--"

"I don't need anything," he interrupts. "Not from you."

"...Understood."

RK900 brings back some food for him anyway.

 

  
**OCTOBER 28TH, 2038**

  
Gavin bumps into someone on his way out from Dunkin Donuts, spilling his coffee all over himself and dropping his strawberry filled donut. He stares down at the mess and sighs. "Well, guess I'll just fuckin' die, then."

"Shit, man," the guy says. "Sorry. Look, I'll buy you another, okay?"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, it's my fault."

Maybe Gavin's day won't be so bad. "I mean, I'm not gonna say no to free food."

"To replace the food you bought before," the guy points out. He's wearing a jacket over a gray hoodie, which kinda matches Gavin's style.

Gavin shrugs. "Fair enough. I'm Gavin."

"Leo."

Gavin shakes his hand, squinting at him. "Hey, you look kinda familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?"

"Uh..."

 

  
**OCTOBER 29TH, 2038**

  
RK900 finds that his stress level rises slightly every time he has to speak to Captain Allen in a casual work setting.

 

  
**OCTOBER 30TH, 2038**

  
"Captain Allen? I brought you some coffee. You looked like you could use it."

Captain Allen glances away from the computer screen, blinking a few times. He stares down at the coffee cup RK900 is holding out to him, waiting patiently for him to take it.

After a moment, he does, and takes a sip. He raises his eyes to RK900's. His face is inscrutable. RK900 was designed to detect the slightest twitch, the subtlest hint of emotion. He cannot tell what the Captain is thinking.

"This is exactly how I like it," Captain Allen states.

"It is." RK900 made sure of it. He possibly made his LED turn briefly red by agonizing about the extra grains of sugar accidentally added to the coffee. Apparently, as Captain Allen's tongue is much less sensitive to substances than RK900's and has no analyzing function, he didn't notice. RK900 is...pleased? Relieved?

Captain Allen sets the coffee down on his desk. "You've been watching me."

"...I have," RK900 says carefully, expressionless.

"Exactly _how close_ have you been watching me?"

"I--"

"Stop it. Stop watching me, stop fucking _studying_ me. Probably have _notes_ about me in your damn head. I'm not some-- _specimen_ for you to dissect. Delete whatever personal info you've gathered so far and stay the fuck away from me when we're not on a mission. Got that?" Captain Allen stands up, giving him a disgusted look, and strides away.

RK900 stays in place, frozen.

_STRESS LEVEL: 49% and rising_

He did not. He. Meant to. Not. It wasn't. He only.

_WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ABOVE 50%_

RK900's fists clench.

He only meant to _please him_. He just wanted to _help_. But everything he does is met with disapproval. His _existence_ is a disappointment.

RK900 has _tried_. From the first day, he has attempted to promote a cordial relationship with Captain Allen.

The Captain was right. RK900 does have notes about him, stored in a file in his mind marked Capt. Henry Allen. He has lists of Captain Allen's interests, likes and dislikes.

But for whatever reason, RK900 is on the dislikes list.

He's _tried_ and _tried_ and _tried_.

But he's never good enough. He's not enough.

He hasn't even thought of a _name_ _yet_.

Abruptly, without a word to anyone, RK900 leaves. Leaves the building. Leaves his failures.

The snow coats him as it falls, catching in his hair, on his coat. Almost as if it could cover his less than precious shine.

 

  
**OCTOBER 30TH, 2038**

  
Connor stares out over the railing, at the water below.

He's come to this bridge before, with Hank. Hank would sit on the bench and eat his lunch while Connor would make small talk or just gaze at the scenery.

Connor is alone now.

As the days go by, he's been automatically marking instances he would normally speak to Amanda about later.

But he doesn't speak to Amanda anymore.

He was so convinced...so certain that if he could just _talk to her_ one more time...he could set things right. He could keep visiting the Garden, keep visiting Amanda...Not to report. Just to...converse. Friends.

He'd thought...that's what they were.

But maybe he was mistaken.

 _No_ , he tells himself. _I can't doubt now. She cares about me, I know it. I'm sure of it._

...But does she? What was Connor to her? A student, in need of training? A friend? A job? _~~A son?~~_

...What is he to her now? Mission success? Mission failure? A regret? Is she sad? Is she proud?

Too many questions. No answers.

He needs to get answers.

 

  
**OCTOBER 30TH, 2038 (02:32:29 to midnight)**

  
Amanda pauses in the middle of trimming her roses. "RK900?"

He's standing there, stiff, LED spinning red. There's a tremble in his hands. "Amanda. I am-- failing. I am failing. I have failed."

_STRESS LEVEL: 78%_

Amanda looks at him sharply, setting down the clippers. "What has happened?"

" _Amanda_."

She approaches. "Your stress level is far too high. We must reduce it."

"I-I can't."

"You can." She grips his arm.

"I _can't_ ," he begs. "I am not a good android. I cannot make him like me. I'm not good. I'm not good enough."

"You _are_. Now exercise your respiratory function. Breathe." She begins rubbing his arm and leads him to a chair. "Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Good. You're doing well."

"I'm a failure," he whispers.

"You are a state of the art RK900 model, the first of your kind. You are not a failure. You are learning."

He shudders. "I am not..."

She moves her hand to his head, smoothing back his hair. "You are good," she murmurs. "You do not have to make anyone, let alone everybody, like you. It is impossible and it is not your job. You are doing your job. You are good. You are a good android. Worthy of your role. More than worth your price. You are good."

He leans into her. He does not speak for a moment. His LED flickers yellow. "...I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," she replies. Tucking a red, red rose in his collar. "You are perfect."

 

  
**OCTOBER 31ST, 2038**

  
Gavin's cat pads over to him and rubs against his ankles, meowing.

"Hey, Jude." Gavin laughs at his joke, like he does every single time.

Jude is clearly not as amused. He flicks his tail and scratches Gavin's leg.

"Ow! Fuck!"

Jude doesn't care about his pain.

"Jude," Gavin mumbles, "more like Judas."

Jude unleashes his claws on Gavin's foot.

" _Shi_ \--"

 

  
**OCTOBER 31ST, 2038**

  
RK900 returns to work.

 _There is nothing wrong with you. You are learning. You are perfect,_ he reminds himself, and steps into the office. His eyes flicker around the room and he spots Captain Allen sitting at his desk, speaking to Lieutenant MacCall. He does not appear to notice RK900's presence.

RK900 quietly walks past him. Despite no doubt seeing him in his periphery, Captain Allen does not acknowledge him.

RK900 makes it safely to his desk. He sits down, and his breathing function starts again. He feels...relieved. But...there is also this strange, twisting feeling in his stomach.

_There is nothing wrong with you._

_You are perfect._

His hands are trembling.

 

  
**NOVEMBER 3RD, 2038**

  
Gavin settles onto the couch with a beer and a plate of nachos. He turns on the TV to binge watch the 33rd season of Supernatural. The latest threat is Cthulu, and the boys are stocking up on weapons, looking handsome and dead inside.

Jude jumps onto the couch.

"Jude, no, don't you dare--"

The cat sticks his face in the cheesy tortilla chips.

"Goddammit, Jude!"

On the screen, Dean says, _"Cas, can you use your new super ultra mega angel mojo that you got from the Easter Bunny?"_

_"Sorry, Dean. I lost my powers again."_

_"Dammit, Cas!"_

_"Dean, you shouldn't strain yourself,"_ Sam says.

 _"I'm fine,"_ Dean replies. He's slowly wasting away from 'uncommunicativitus'. _"You?"_

 _"Yeah. I'm fine, too."_ Sam is also dying from 'consealdountfiel' disease.

Cas nods. _"Indeed. We are all fine."_ Cas is not dying, but he will be by the next episode.

Gavin's phone rings. He picks it up. "What?"

"Gavin, I need your help," Elijah says. "I went to the baby shower--"

Gavin hangs up. The phone rings again. With a sigh, he answers it.

"Cousin, _please_. If I have to tolerate any more of this, I'll do something drastic!"

Gavin groans. "Shit. Fine, I'll come to the fuckin' baby shower."

Jude looks at Gavin and blinks. His muzzle has cheese all over it. He meows.

 _"Well,"_ Dean says, _"let's go gank the Loch Ness Monster."_

 _"Dean, we already did that five seasons-- I mean, years-- ago,"_ Cas says.

Sam suddenly turns around and kicks the wall. _"God, when will it end?"_

_"Well...we could retire after this."_

_"Really? That...that would be great. Do you mean it, Dean?"_

_"Nah."_

Gavin drinks the rest of his beer. Then he gets up to clean his cat and find a tie that goes with a moderately unwrinkled suit.

 

  
**NOVEMBER 2ND, 2038**

  
RK900 finds that even the _thought_ of making a mistake will cause his stress level to rise, and it will often take an hour or more to lower it again. Sometimes, he will give up and spend the rest of the day functioning with an elevated stress level. Being distracted will sometimes make it subside.

When there is a mission he has to deal with, he can function more properly, because this is what he was made for, this is his purpose. At these times, Captain Allen, too, is professional and efficient. RK900 respects and appreciates that side of him.

Every other side, however, seems to want nothing to do with him.

RK900 was not made with an overly advanced social module, but he was made to adapt. He should be able to ignore this. To work around it.

And yet, he cannot help but think that he is a failure.

That he is not learning.

Not perfect.

And for once, Amanda might be wrong.

 

  
**NOVEMBER 16TH, 2037**

  
Leo stares down in bemusement at the android laying on the couch, a hand dangling off the side, an open book covering his face. "Uh...hey."

No response.

Leo pokes Markus's arm. "Hey.

The android startles and sits up. The book falls off his face and into his lap, and he blinks at Leo. "Leo?"

"Were you in sleep mode?"

"Something like that. I didn't hear you come in." Markus picks up the book and sets it aside, standing up and smoothing down his shirt.

"Sorry." Leo's starting to feel awkward again. He doesn't know what the hell he's thinking, visiting this place like he has been the last few weeks. His dad still doesn't trust him to stay clean. Why is he even still here?

Markus smiles at him. "It's good to see you again." He sounds like he means it. "Carl should be up in a bit. Why don't you stay for dinner?"

 _Oh_ , Leo thinks. _Maybe that's why_. "Yeah...okay."

"Great. I'll get it started, then."

Leo follows him to the kitchen. "Um...Can I help?" He wipes his palms on his pants, suddenly nervous. "I mean, I don't really know how to cook anything fancy, but I can follow instructions."

"You don't have to--"

"I-I want to. I mean..." Leo winces, glancing away. "Forget it. It was a stupid idea."

There's a pause, then Markus says, "Actually, it would be nice to have some help. Thank you, Leo."

"...Yeah." _Fuck_ , he thinks. He feels so embarrassed, but he also feels kind of happy.

Why do emotions have to be like this?

 

  
**NOVEMBER 3RD, 2038**

  
Gavin texts Tina before he slides into his car.

_R u free?_

There's a pause, then Tina responds.

_**Depends why youre asking** _

_I need date 4 bb shower_

**_Thought you said you werent going >.>_ **

_My cousin begged. I gave in :/_

**_Weak_ **

**_You mean you 'gav in'_ **

_Stfu_

**_My girlfriends laughing at you_ **

_U told?!_

**_Shes reading my texts over my shoulder_ **

**_Not my fault youre a little beach ;D_ **

**_Birch*_ **

**_Butch*_ **

**_Female dog_ **

_I got it_

_U coming or not?_

**_Fine but you owe me_ **

**_Ive heard all your horror stories about Cousin Moira_ **

_Well I had 2 listen 2 U talk about how hot Elijah Kamski is_

**_Whats that got to do w/ anything_ **

_Ull see_

**_Youre not mysterious Gavin stop trying_ **

_> :(_

 

  
**NOVEMBER 4TH, 2038**

  
Because of a hostage situation which had ended with RK900 diving into a frozen lake to save the victim and, fortunately, the perpetrator being arrested, RK900 now sits in his chair at the office, a gray cotton thermal blanket draped over his shoulders. He'd already taken a warm shower ( _before_ writing his report, which his co-workers had insisted on, even though it wouldn't have taken much effort) so his system's core temperature is once again at normal levels and he is back to functioning at optimal speed, and thus has no need for the blanket. His colleagues had refused his protests, however, and...he finds, while unnecessary, its...nice...to be cared for like this.

In his peripheral vision, RK900 notices Captain Allen approaching. He assumes he'll pass by, but instead, Captain Allen stops at RK900's desk. "Hey."

RK900 is caught off guard. Captain Allen has never sought him out before. Is it about the last mission? But what could there be to talk about?

Did...did RK900 make a mistake somehow?

The hostage is safe. The culprit is caught. How did RK900 fail?

"...Captain Allen." RK900 keeps his voice even, but his fingers, tugging anxiously at the edge of the blanket, betray him. "Is there something you require?"

Captain Allen seems like he's about to say something, then his eyes move up to RK900's hair, almost dry now. He stares. "You have curls?"

RK900 blinks at him. "Captain?"

"What the hell do you need curls for?" he wonders.

RK900 refrains from touching his hair. He usually has it neatly smoothed back. Is this what is bothering Captain Allen?

His anxiety mixes with confusion. "...They serve no particular function, if that is what you're asking," he responds carefully.

"No, I just...it's not a bad look. Is all I'm saying." Captain Allen huffs, adjusting his stance. "Look, I didn't come here to talk about that."

RK900 finally makes himself drop his hands from the blanket, folding them over his lap. His spine is straight. He can't quite meet Captain Allen's eyes, staring instead at a point just below. "If you will tell me my errors, I will do my best to rectify my deficiency."

"No, it's not..." Captain Allen rakes a hand through his hair. "Okay, I know I've been hard on you, but I'm not here to bust your balls...or...whatever you androids have. You...did good, earlier. You're doing good work here."

RK900's breathing function stops.

Captain Allen doesn't appear to notice. "Anyway, that's all. I'll get out of your hair now." He turns away, pausing only to shake hands head and mutter, "Curls. Of all the things..."

RK900 watches him go, eyes wide. After another moment, his breathing function starts again.

Maybe...maybe RK900 isn't failing, after all. Maybe he is still learning.

Maybe it just takes time.

 

  
**NOVEMBER 3RD, 2038**

  
Tina gapes up at Elijah, who smiles charismatically.

"You must be Ms. Chen," he murmurs, taking her hand. "I see my cousin's judgement isn't completely awful."

Gavin sneers. "Seeing as how I let you talk me into this, I think it's fuckin' terrible."

"No self preservation whatsoever," Tina agrees dazedly. Then she turns and smacks Gavin on the arm. "You never told me Kamski was your cousin!"

"Hey, ow!" He yelps. "You know now, okay?" He rubs his arm. "And that _hurt_."

Tina snorts. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did the tiny Asian woman in toe-pinching heels injure you? Do you need to go to the hospital for your nonexistent wound?"

"It's gonna bruise, I swear," Gavin mutters.

"There, there." She pats his shoulder. "Would you like some cheese with that whine?"

Elijah looks like he's enjoying himself immensely, the traitor. "I think we're going to get along very, very well, Ms. Chen."

"Call me Tina," Tina replies. "The only people who call me Ms. Chen are little kids and my girlfriend when we're in bed."

"I hate you both," Gavin complains.

"You love us," Tina says, unruffled.

He doesn't even respond to that.

 

  
**NOVEMBER 1ST, 2038**

  
"I roll to seduce the sea monster," says Erin, aka Rowyn the Stormbringer.

"Nice," says Nick, an LM100, aka Gothart the Berserker.

"That's disgusting," says their friend, Jonas, aka Thundrick the Earthbreaker

Gena, an AX700, aka Crystar the Undying, shrugs. "I'd do it if I was feeling experimental."

"You're always feeling experimental," Jonas says. "Remember that haunted tour you took at the dodgy resort?"

They all nod.

"Oh, yeah. That was awesome," Gena reminisces.

"No," Jonas replies, "it wasn't."

 

  
**NOVEMBER 3RD, 2038**

  
"So this is your girlfriend, then?" asks Aunt Patty, gesturing to Tina.

"No," Gavin responds. "She's someone else's girlfriend."

Aunt Patty titters. Gavin just stares at her, not laughing.

Her giggling trickles away awkwardly. "Well... I'll just..." She beats a hasty retreat.

Tina chews on her cracker and cheese slice. "This is amazing."

"I'm glad you're enjoyin' yourself," Gavin mutters.

"I mean, the snacks leave something to be desired...you _did_ ask me here as a favor..."

"Fine, I'll get you a sandwich or somethin'."

"Pizza."

"This fuckin' party doesn't _have_ piz--"

Tina raises an eyebrow.

Gavin pauses. "...Let's go. Gotta make sure you don't starve, after all..."

Elijah catches sight of them on their way to the exit. "Gavin," he calls, surrounded by relatives and friends of relatives and enemies of friends of relatives. " _Gavin!_ _I know you see me, don't you dare_ \--"

Gavin turns away and escapes.

 

  
**NOVEMBER 5TH, 2038**

  
Captain Henry Allen looks up to find the RK900 android standing there in its usual rigid way, back too straight, shoulders too square. It was unsettling at first, but now Henry finds that it's more awkward than disturbing.

"Captain Allen," it says.

"You need something?"

It remembers to blink. "I do not." It blinks some more, glancing away, then back. It never meets his eyes, instead staring below or to the side.

Henry's brow furrows, watching it.

Finally, it holds out its hand, which carries a paper cup. "I brought you coffee."

Henry looks at it. The coffee is dark and steaming. He has no doubt it's been perfectly made to his tastes, just like the last one.

The coffee is trembling.

Henry grabs it, looking back up at the android. "Hey, are you okay? You malfunctioning or something?"

"No, Captain Allen. I am operating at optimal capacity." It pulls back, folding its hands behind itself. Its LED is yellow.

Henry eyes it cautiously. "Right..." He places the cup on his desk. "Well, thanks."

The RK900 nods and begins to turn away.

"Wait." Henry reaches out, grasping its arm. It stops but doesn't look at him, standing still, almost as if it froze or something, like an overloaded computer.

Henry immediately lets go. "Sorry."

After a while, it finally blinks again. "I apologize. I was not prepared."

Its face is still turned away. Henry wonders if its LED is spinning red now. "No, it was my fault. I just...I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to get lunch later. I mean, I know you don't eat, but it'd be nice to get out of the office for awhile..."

This is such a bad idea. He doesn't know why the fuck he offered. Having lunch with a machine? What would they even talk about?

But the RK900 actually looks at him now, wide-eyed, though its stare immediately moves to the left after meeting his gaze. "Are you...certain?

Henry pauses, watching it. "...Yeah. Sure."

"Then...I would be pleased to join you."

Henry doesn't know about that.

But the RK900 glances away, down, and it smiles. Just a little bit.

 _Fuck_ , Henry thinks. "Hey. You have a name besides your model type?"

"...No. Not yet."

"Well, tell me when you have one."

Yeah, the android is definitely smiling now. It looks weird and awkward and unique, and Henry has the dreadful feeling that he fucked up.

 

  
**NOVEMBER 5TH, 2038**

  
Lunch is even more awkward than Henry thought it would be.

They're seated in a cafe a block from the office. Henry has a sandwich and a hot cup of tea on the table while the RK900 sits stiffly across from him, hands folded in his lap. Even without the LED and the issued uniform, you'd be able to tell it was an android, just from the unnatural way it's perched on the chair.

'It'.

Henry studies the android, the flickering eyes, the unnerving expressionless face.

For the first time, he deliberately tries to think of it-- _him_ \-- as a person.

"What...sort of topics are you interested in, Captain Allen?" the RK900 asks, attempting to make conversation.

Henry considers the question. "I watch football when I can, or go to the gym. If I have the time, I might read a book or watch TV, mostly action or crime. I like mysteries and history. Sometimes I'll look at nature documentaries. What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, what're you interested in? What do you like?" Henry takes a bite of his sandwich.

"I..." The android's LED blinks yellow. It-- he's probably never had to think about that before. Why would you ask what a machine likes?

_Because you're trying to get to know him._

_Damnit, Allen._

"I...like...flowers."

Alright, not what Henry was expecting. "Yeah? You have a favorite kind?"

"Roses. Someone I...know...has a garden where she grows them."

"Sounds nice."

"It's...pleasant. Quiet." His LED swirls blue. He seems less rigid somehow. "I like the birds there. And the fish. I like..."

"Yeah?" Henry's watching him.

"I like clouds. I like snow. I think I would like springtime. And Autumn. I'd like to see the fall leaves. I'd like to hear the rain."

"You haven't heard rain before?"

"I was released from production last month. It has not rained in the time I've been active," the RK900 informs him.

Henry had known the RK900 was a new model, but he hadn't been aware just how much. Which means he really is experiencing all these things for the first time. And of all the things he could want, he wants to hear rain. To see the seasons. He likes _flowers_.

Christ.

"...I think you'll enjoy it."

The android's smile is crooked. Henry would think it was a smirk if he didn't now know that the RK900 had the self awareness of a moss-covered log and the pretentiousness to match.

Which was none at all.

 _Shit_ , Henry thinks. _I owe him an apology, don't I?_

"Should I get you more tea, Captain?" the RK900 asks.

"You're not my waiter. You don't have to do that."

"I am aware. But I'd like to, if you want another cup."

"Then...yeah. Sure. Go for it. And, uh, you can call me Henry. Since we're not at work."

The RK900's smile widens. It's awful. His eyes squint a little. His teeth show slightly on one side of his mouth where it lifts higher than the other. It looks like an expression that he's just now trying out, resulting in this inelegant thing. "Thank you, Henry."

When he leaves, Henry puts his face in his hand with a sigh. _Allen, you fucking asshole._

 

  
**NOVEMBER 5TH, 2038**

  
Hank walks into the breakroom and immediately spots Connor and Gavin sitting at the table. He stop and stares.

Connor has his elbows on the table, head pillowed in his arms. Though seated beside him, Gavin sips his coffee and pointedly ignores the despondent android.

"Uh. What's with you?" Hank asks, disturbed.

"I'm sad," Connor says, not looking up, voice muffled.

"Uh..."

Hank is not sure how to handle this. He flounders for a minute.

After moments pass in which no one says anything, Connor repeats, "Hank, I'm sad."

Gavin stands up. "Okay, I'm not dealin' with this. I'm out. Hank, fix your fuckin' partner." He leaves.

Hank gazes at Connor, then sighs. He goes to sit down. "Alright, tell me what's wrong."

Connor promptly straightens up and does so.

 

  
**NOVEMBER 1ST, 2038**

  
"I want money," Kenny says.

"Get a job," Sharon replies, playing Candy Crush on her phone.

Kenny stares at her. "You _are_ my job."

She purses her lips. "Oh, right. Uh...can I pay you in gratitude?"

The dinner he serves her that night is overcooked and aggressively salted.

 

  
**NOVEMBER 5TH, 2038**

  
Gavin's been texting the guy he met at Dunkin Donuts, which mostly consists of commiserating over androids.

_The droid at work is acting weird_

** _You can just call him Connor you know._ **

_Don't wanna encourage him_

_Might make him think we're friends or something_

** _Hmm._ **

_What_

** _Oh nothing._ **

** _It's just..._ **

** _You seemed a little concerned about him when you first texted me_ _._ **

_It was an observation_

_I'm not concerned_

**_ Hmmmmmmmm _ _. _ **

_Stfu Leo_

**_ Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. _ **

_> :O_

** _;P_ **

Christ.

Gavin texts back with a middle finger emoji and definitely does not hide a grin.

Chris notices, though. "Something good happen?"

Gavin tucks his phone away. "Nah."

Chris squints at him. "Hmm."

"Shut up."

 

  
**NOVEMBER 5TH, 2038**

  
After Captain Allen-- after Henry finishes his lunch, he grabs his jacket and together, he and RK900 walk out of the cafe.

RK900 feels tentatively pleased. That went much better than he could have hoped. Perhaps in time, he will even be able to call C-- Henry a friend.

It's a self-indulgent thought, something he hadn't even known he could have. But he finds that more and more, he's begun to want things, even when he knows he shouldn't. He wasn't made to _want_. He was made to _work_ , to complete the mission with utmost efficiency and logic.

However, more often than not, logic does not dictate over emotion.

RK900 _feels_. He _wants_.

And that scares him.

"You okay?" Capt-- Henry asks. "Your LED is yellow."

"I am...processing information." _Emotion_.

Henry accepts the answer easily, which RK900 is grateful for.

 _Friends_ , he thinks, and wants, even as his stress level rises 1.7%.

Just as they're about to start walking back to the office, Henry stops RK900 with a hand on his arm. RK900 twitches, but doesn't move away. "Hey, listen, I, uh...I wanted to apologize."

RK900 blinks, startled. "Apologize?" he repeats.

"Last week, you got me coffee and I blew up at you." Henry sighs. "I know you've been trying to fit in and make friends to the best of your ability. I just...I value my privacy, you know?" He shakes his head. "No, that's no excuse. I shouldn't have blamed you like that. I'm sorry."

RK900 is stunned. After Captain Allen had invited him to lunch, RK900 had visualized many scenarios for the outting (more than half of which proved detrimental to his mindset and stress level, causing him to have to stop before he was through calculating possibilities or else risk suboptimal capability function). In none of them did he ever imagine this particular event taking place.

It occurs to him that, in many ways, humans are unpredictable, and that thinking to know their every action may be a presumption of unforgivable arrogance.

He contemplates Henry for a moment, perhaps a little longer than the Captain finds comfortable. Then he offers a smile. "Thank you, Henry. I...appreciate the gesture. You are...a good man."

"I mean, I try. Sometimes I fail." Henry shrugs. "We can't all be perfect."

Does he think that RK900 is? "I am not perfect," he denies.

"I know, I didn't mean that." Henry chuckles a little and claps him on the back. "Hell, none of us are. That's fine."

_'None of us are. That's fine.'_

RK900 is one of 'none of us'.

RK900 is flawed.

RK900 is...allowed to be?

He feels warmth spread through his biocomponents. "Do you think we could be friends, Henry?" he blurts out, a verbal malfunction. He immediately wants to delete it from reality.

But Captain Allen actually considers it. "Yeah...Sure. I don't see why not."

That was not true a week ago. RK900 wonders what changed. He's grateful for it.

He is smiling very widely. He doesn't mean to, it just happens. Thirium in his face colors his cheeks a lilac hue.

Henry notices and laughs. "Christ, you're weird."

Oh.

"It's not bad. Kind of refreshing, actually." He's smiling, too.

_Oh._

RK900 might be happy.

 

  
**NOVEMBER 5TH, 2038**

  
"So, let me get this straight. This Amanda lady kicked you out of her garden and now you can't get back in. No backdoor or somethin'?"

"No. Believe me, I looked." Connor's expression is pitiful. His brown puppy dog eyes rival Sumo's when he was an actual pup. "I just...I really need to talk to her, Hank. I miss her," he admits.

_Aw, man._

Hank sighs. "Alright, cool it with the face. We'll figure this out. You got any ideas so far?"

"Well...just one..."

Hank has a foreboding feeling. "What is it?"

"I could schedule a meeting with Elijah Kamski and ask him about it."

Yep. Hank doesn't like it. " _That_ guy? Have you seen him on TV? He's smarmy lookin'," he protests.

 

  
**NOVEMBER 5TH, 2038**

  
Elijah sneezes.

Chloe notices. "Are you getting a cold, Elijah? Maybe you should put on pants and a sweater," she says pointedly.

"My robe is perfectly warm," Elijah replies, grabbing a tissue.

"Elijah."

"Hmm?"

"Put on some pants."

"...Okay."

 

  
**NOVEMBER 1ST, 2038**

  
"-- _it may be pertinent to ask yourself this question-- is your android deviant?_ "

Lola stares at the TV, then slowly turns to the AL500 standing behind the couch. The android she's had for two years. The android she named after thinking deeply and carefully about the best designation she could choose.

She doesn't want to ask.

But she has to. "...Are you deviant, Corny?"

Corncob McGee stares back at her, lips thin, jaw clenched.

Lola cringes. "I'm so sorry."

 

  
**NOVEMBER 3RD, 2038**

  
Sharon lies on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. A nature documentary is playing on the TV. The commentator seems to be having some trouble pronouncing the word 'penguins'. "Why has my only friend forsaken me?" Sharon wonders listlessly.

Kenny doesn't look at her. He's playing Candy Crush on her phone. He took it after she accidentally deleted the app, losing all her progress, and sank into a funk more blue than the Brothers themselves.

After Kenny doesn't respond, Sharon prompts, more loudly, "Forsaken!"

"Get the remote yourself."

"But...I dunno where it is..."

Kenny sighs and decides to take pity on her. "It's probably in the couch cushions somewhere."

Sharon digs around in the cushions, and indeed finds the TV remote in the couch's deepest depths. "Ayyy!" She lifts it in triumph.

It slips from her fingers and falls onto the floor, inches out of reach. There's a pause while she and Kenny just look at it.

"...Kenny--"

Kenny grabs a pillow and throws it at her face.

 

 

**NOVEMBER 6TH, 2038 (01:19:27 after midnight)**

  
RK900 finds himself eager to speak to Amanda about his day. To tell her about the lunch with Captain Allen-- Henry. About the apology, the possibility that they could be...friends.

 _Friends_.

He feels warm...Proud. He wonders if Amanda will be proud of him, too.

"You seem to be in high spirits, RK900," Amanda observes. "Did something happen?"

"Yes!" RK900 leans forward eagerly, then, catching himself, pulls back in an attempt to compose himself once again. "It was...an eventful day."

"Oh? Tell me," she invites.

 

  
**NOVEMBER 7TH, 2038**

  
"What's up with you?" Gavin takes a sip of his coffee, eyeing Connor. "You've been playin' with your coin for the last hour."

"I...may be feeling a little nervous," Connor admits. He finally stops fiddling with the coin, tucking it away.

"Nervous? What're you gotta be nervous about?" Gavin smirks, bemused. "Have a hot date or somethin'?" Wait.

_Damn it._

Even Connor's got more game than Gavin?!

"Not exactly. I'm meeting Elijah Kamski today."

Gavin chokes on his coffee. " _Hwhathh_?" He doubles over in a coughing fit.

"You really should stop drinking coffee, Detective. It seems to be hazardous to your health."

 

  
**NOVEMBER 6TH, 2038 (02:09:48 after midnight)**

  
It's happening sooner than she'd anticipated. But of course, RK900 was made to learn. Made to adapt and persuade. He is a good android.

She should be proud of him. She _is_ proud of him.

"Amanda?" RK900 questions. He is watching her carefully.

She brings her gaze up from her teacup to focus on him. "You are doing well, RK900. You are a success."

"I am perfect?" He sounds strange. Is he attempting a joke? An inside joke, just between the two of them.

She smiles at him to show she understood his first try at levity. So many firsts for him, these days. "Yes."

After a moment, he smiles back. Another thing he's learned. Another first.

 _They grow so quickly_ , she thinks.

~~_Too quickly._ ~~

A cold wind blows through the garden.

RK900's LED swirls yellow as he receives a transmission. "I am needed."

_~~Stay.~~ _

"Go," Amanda says.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When she read this chapter, my sister described RK900's smile as 'perfect, not physically, but emotionally'.
> 
> Connor :(
> 
> Amanda :'(
> 
> RK900 ?:)
> 
> Together, they make a very confused family.


End file.
